CHAPTER
35
Mason and Ruston entered Champion Auditorium side by side behind Alb, who followed Luella Flynn with a camera on his shoulder. The audience seats were empty, but the hooded Ancients of the Safe Lands Guild sat up on the dais, as did Lawten Renzor and General Stimel.
Mason saw Lawten stand up at his place in the center of the front table. He was wearing a black suit. “What is the meaning of this interruption, Ms. Flynn? You can’t bring a camera into this meeting.” His voice was amplified somehow, and it rang out from all sides of the room.
“Have you not been watching the ColorCast, Lawten? It’s been quite a day.” Luella’s voice sounded soft in comparison to Lawten’s, but she was speaking into her handheld microphone, so viewers likely didn’t notice the difference.
“We are occupied with important matters, Ms. Flynn,” Lawten said. “And while I know how entertaining your program is, we have serious work to do.”
Luella reached the witness box. She climbed the steps to the top. Alb stayed on the floor and walked to a place in the front of the room where he could get both Luella and Lawten Renzor in his shot. Mason and Ruston followed Luella into the witness box but stayed behind her.
“If you haven’t seen the ColorCast today, you don’t really know what kind of ‘work’ you have to do.” Luella pointed to the Wyndo wall screen behind Lawten. “Can someone get that wall screen on channel two?”
“Ms. Flynn, I will not ask again,” Lawten said. “Please vacate this auditorium at once.”
“Mr. Task Director General, I don’t think you understand me,” Luella yelled. “The Owl has taken over the ColorCast. He is showing the people what liberation really is. He has been showing them for the past hour and a half. You are finished.”
“Preposterous.” Lawten sat back in his chair. “That vigilante is nothing but a liar.”
“If he is a liar, he is a very good one,” Luella said. “He’s in the Lowlands, Lawten. He and Richark Lonn have shown us all the truth. We’ve seen the strikers’ bunkhouses, the fields, the feedlots, and the slaughterhouses. We’ve seen our liberated friends slaving away in Bliss. Though the Lowlands really aren’t Bliss, are they?”
“What is the meaning of this, Lawten?” a hooded Ancient asked.
Lawten tapped his fist against the table. “I need some enforcers in Champion Auditorium. Now.” He tapped his fist again. “Hay-o? Get me enforcer 10.”
The Ancient beside Lawten stood, his black robe billowing around him. “Wyndo: power. Channel: two.”
“Don’t give in to her,” Lawten said.
But the theater went silent as everyone stared at the wall screen. It came slowly into focus. The Owl was standing in the middle of a crowd, but he could hardly be heard.
“Volume: sixteen,” the ancient said, and Omar’s voice broke the silence.
“Do you have SimTags down here?”
“Yes,” a man said. “But they just started implanting them in our necks to keep people from cutting them out. If anyone tries that now . . . well, I don’t think it’s safe to stab yourself in the neck.”
“But these SimTags work differently than those in the Highlands or Midlands, isn’t that true?” the Owl asked.
A woman pushed up on Omar’s right. “One thing that’s different is if you miss your curfew, they’re programmed to stun you, wherever you are. You’ll go down.”
“Stunned?” the Owl asked.
“Yes, sir. It’s a curfew warning. Just a little tweak to remind you it’s ten minutes ’til.”
“’Til what?”
“’Til you’d better be in your bunk.”
“And what happens if you miss curfew and are stunned?” the Owl asked.
“Enforcers come get you and take you to the RC,” the first man said. “Unless you get a bad bunch, then they might steal all your credits and beat you up. It’s not supposed to happen, but it’s happened to more people that you’d think.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Task Director General,” Luella said from her place in the witness box. “That’s channel two. We’ve seen that footage already this morning. Channel one is live. Perhaps we should see what the Safe Lands people are watching right now?”
The Ancient who had turned on the Wyndo said, “Wyndo: channel one.”
And the channel changed to show the feed from Alb’s camera: Champion Theater and the members of the Guild staring at the wall screen of themselves.
Lawten jumped up, hands on the table, leaning toward Luella in the witness box. “This is not acceptable. Turn that camera off this instant! I need some enforcers in here!”
“You have no more servants, Mr. Task Director General. Your enforcers want answers like everyone else,” Luella said. “The people are watching. They know that you’ve been lying. And they’d like to know why.”
“You’ll get no answers from us,” Lawten said, “not like this. Not under threat. Give me a private interview, Luella, once I’ve had time to prepare.”
“I’m a reporter,” Luella said. “It’s my job to uncover the truth. And I won’t give you time to prepare any more lies.”
“What are your demands?” a grizzled voice on the left wall asked.
“Excellent. I’m very glad you asked.” Luella waved Ruston to the front of the box. He moved up to stand beside her. “Safe Landers, this is Seth McShane II, also known under the rebel name of Ruston Neil. He’s the leader of the Kindred, who are known to us only as Naturals.”
Gasps and whispers from the Ancients.
Luella turned around. “Mason, step up here, please.”
Mason moved to Luella’s other side. It felt strange to have the attention of the Safe Lands Guild again. It hadn’t been all that long since he’d stood here with Omar. Since this same group of people had liberated him.
“This is Mason Elias,” Luella said. “Mr. Elias is from Glenrock, an outsider village that our enforcers destroyed this past June. The Guild liberated Mr. Elias a few months ago, but he’s back. Mr. Elias is named after his tribe’s founder, Elias McShane. These two men have a connection in their past. A similar donor, if you will. Ruston, can you tell us why Mason and our Task Director General both bear the number nine?” She held her microphone out to Ruston.
“I can,” Ruston said into the mic. “It’s the same reason that if I was to be assigned a number, it would be a nine as well. It’s because we have similar DNA or genetic code. That’s because, for Mr. Elias and myself, generations back, we had a donor in common. Mr. Renzor, however, he and I have the same donors on both sides. He is, after all, my little brother.”
Mason leaned out of the box, trying to see Ruston around Luella. “What?”
“We don’t have to listen to this talk,” Lawten said.
“I’d like to hear it,” the Ancient beside him said.
“As would I,” said the grizzled voice.
“Lawten is a Natural,” Ruston said. “Our mother went into labor early with him. We didn’t have the ability to help her. My father was worried that she or the baby would die. So he took her to the Midlands MC where she delivered Lawten. The medics took him away, of course. And that was the year the Guild offered stipends for delivering a child, and so my mother was paid in credits for giving up her child.”
“Did you know this, Mr. Task Director General?” Luella asked.
When Lawten didn’t answer, Ruston did. “He knew. After he graduated from the boarding school, I found him and told him. He didn’t want to believe me, but I could tell he knew I was telling the truth. He wanted nothing to do with me, of course. Promised he’d turn me in if I ever came to see him again.” Ruston looked to Lawten now. “And so I’ve not bothered you, my brother. But times change, and this city is changing. The people will demand trust from its leaders from now on. And the people will only trust those they elect themselves.”
Mason stepped around Luella and leaned between her and Ruston so that he could reach the mic. “And if your meetings are shown on the ColorCas
t where the people can watch.”
“That’s an outrageous demand,” an Ancient in the back corner said.
“That is our offer,” Ruston said. “We’ll open nominations today, and you, distinguished members of the Guild, are welcome to make nominations and even nominate yourselves. However, the nominating committee will accept no more than six incumbent nominations, so decide amongst yourselves whom you will nominate. And also keep in mind that just because you make a nomination, it doesn’t mean the Safe Lands people will vote for you.”
“Ruston,” Luella said, “could you explain what you mean by the people voting? Safe Landers have voted for our task director general for years. How will this be different?”
“This will be very different, Ms. Flynn. First of all, a nomination page has been set up on the grid. You can find it by looking up the page for The Finley and Flynn Morning Show. You can nominate people from now until next Saturday evening at six o’clock. At that time, we’ll post the results of the nominations and Ms. Flynn will begin interviewing the candidates.”
“Finley will help me, of course,” Luella said.
“The interviews will run as long as necessary,” Ruston said, “and they’ll be recorded here so that you can come and listen in person if you don’t trust ColorCast recordings. Once every nominee has had their chance to speak to the people, the people will vote. The top nineteen candidates will be our new Safe Lands Guild. And they will nominate the new Task Director General of the Safe Lands.”
“I would like to speak.” An Ancient stood from his seat in the middle of the row on the left-hand side of the auditorium. He pulled off his hood.
And there stood Bender.
“You?” Ruston looked as shocked as Mason felt.
“May I have the floor?” Bender asked.
No one said a word.
“Twenty years ago, this Guild discussed a terrible bit of news. Biochemists told us that the thin plague had mutated. That is was progressing. Aging people faster than normal. They claimed not to know why. So I started an investigation. What I learned . . . it was not pleasant. In their search for a cure, the biochemists inadvertently made things worse. It was accidental. And there was nothing to be done but to try and fix it.”
“By making every Safe Lands national a test subject without their consent?” Mason asked.
“Yes,” Bender said, “I’m afraid that’s true.”
“So the stimulants in the meds slow the aging process?” Mason asked. It was all that made sense in his mind.
“That’s right,” Bender said. “It’s a no-win situation right now. We’ve been trapped for years. Caught in our own lies. And we each have them, for our various departments. There’s been so much corruption, to try and change things would mean revealing the truth to the public. None of us were brave enough.”
“You were.” Three places down from Bender, another Ancient removed his hood. He looked to be in his mid-seventies, but with the thin plague, who could make a fair guess? “The Guild Intelligence League kept most of us in line.”
“I merely tried to keep us from making things worse,” Bender said.
“What is the Guild Intelligence League?” Luella asked in an excited voice.
“It’s a secret organization I started to gather intelligence on the Safe Lands government,” Bender said.
“Then who gathered intelligence on you?” Luella asked.
“The taskers in my office monitored me as much as any other member of this Guild,” Bender said.
“But you pretended to be a rebel,” Mason said.
“Sometimes the rebels knew more about goings on in the Safe Lands than my own staff. I’m sorry, Ruston.”
“I never once suspected who you really were,” Ruston said.
“Yes, well, Mr. Task Director General, I’d like to make some recommendations, if I may,” Bender said. “Where are you going?”
While everyone had been focused on Bender on the side of the room, Lawten had left his seat. He was walking down steps in the front corner of the amphitheater that were hidden by the tables on the dais.
“He can’t go far,” Luella said. “I’d like to hear your recommendations.”
But Mason knew he could go far. That he wanted to leave the Safe Lands and might already have a plan to do so. “I’m going after Lawten,” Mason whispered to Ruston.
“With what?”
A door opened in the front corner of the amphitheater, one that was painted green to match the walls. Lawten was gone.
“He has Ciddah!” Mason descended the platform steps as Bender answered Luella’s question.
“I recommend that we abolish liberation and abolish the law that states that anyone over the age of forty must conceal their face. And I’d also like to surrender myself to the new Guild for questioning.”
“I second the motion,” someone said. “And I too would like to surrender.”
Mason ran up to the dais. He lifted the tablecloth and crawled up underneath the table onto the platform floor.
“What is the matter with you?” someone yelled. “Ancients of the Safe Lands don’t surrender. We are the law.”
“That’s over now.”
“And who will rule in our stead? Luella Flynn?”
“Why not?” Bender said. “She has as much right as any of you. In fact, I nominate Luella Flynn and Seth McShane as temporary co-task directors until a new one might be elected.”
Mason crawled to the other side of the table and slid down the stairs to the mystery door.
“We still have a motion on the floor that hasn’t been voted on.”
And that was all Mason heard as he ran out the door and it slammed behind him. There was only one way to go. A hallway that led him to an exit on the side of the building. Mason ran through it and just caught sight of Lawten entering the next building over. City Hall.
Mason ran into City Hall and pressed the elevator button. One elevator was on five, going up. The other was on two going up. He couldn’t afford to wait. Mason ran for the stairwell. Where Lawten Renzor went, Ciddah would be.
Mason had just reached the fifth floor when someone entered the stairwell above him.
“Up, quickly.” Lawten’s voice. And a crying baby.
“Why? Where are we going?” Ciddah!
Mason kept climbing, trying to make his steps soundless.
“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Lawten said. “They’re going to arrest us. Do you want to spend the rest of your days in the RC?”
“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Ciddah said. “You’re scaring the baby. Please, give him to me.”
“He’s my child. I’ll carry him.”
Hinges squeaked and light flooded into the stairwell from above, as did the sound of a motor of some kind, which muted whatever Lawten said next.
Mason could see their ankles now. Ciddah’s and Lawten’s as they walked out the door and onto the roof. The door clumped shut behind them, making the stairwell seem dark and quiet again.
Mason ran up the last flight, wishing he’d thought to find a weapon of some sort. Maybe Lawten didn’t have a weapon either.
He pushed open the door and peeked onto the roof. A helicopter! That’s what was making all that noise. The blades on top were already a spinning blur. An enforcer was helping Ciddah inside. Lawten passed her the baby and climbed in.
“No!” Mason ran toward the helicopter. No one seemed to have heard him. The enforcer reached for the door and pulled it closed. Mason reached it just in time. Grabbed the door. Pried it back open. “Stop! Ciddah, get out!”
“Mason!”
“Shoot him!” Lawten yelled. “Pilot, take off.”
The enforcer drew a stunner, and Mason ducked. The door opened farther and the enforcer leaned out and aimed for Mason again. Ciddah screamed.
Mason dove under the helicopter. A stunner cartridge hit the roof and slid past Mason’s feet. He lunged back out and yanked the enforcer’s leg. The man fell out the door, landed in a crouch on
the roof, then tumbled forward into a somersault.
The helicopter lifted off the roof just a few inches. Mason threw himself down on the right landing skid. The helicopter continued to rise, and gravity made Mason’s body twist around the skid until his back faced down. Oh, dumb! What was he thinking? He wrapped his arms and legs around the skid, holding on with the joints of his elbows and knees.
He looked down on the roof as the helicopter rose into the air. The enforcer was sitting on there, holding his ankle, watching.
The helicopter banked sharply to the left, steering right off the roof and out over the city.
“Oh, God!” Mason squeezed the skid, which pushed his head to the side. He watched the ground underneath them with squinted eyes. They flew over the tall buildings of downtown, past the wooded area where the mansion homes were. Mason caught a glimpse of Champion House.
They must not be going there.
The air was so cold that Mason could feel ice crusting his eyelashes together. His fingers were already going numb. He couldn’t hold on like this much longer. The helicopter flew right over the Safe Lands walls and the foothills of Mount Crested Butte. The snow-covered slopes and trees would give him a quick death if he were to fall. He’d be frozen before he could decide if he’d broken his back.
He caught sight of a large white flag hanging off the branch of a barren willow tree. No, not a flag. His balloon. Apparently Omar had cut it loose.
The helicopter banked hard left again, and Mason clung to the skid with all his strength. They passed over more frozen terrain. Then a frozen lake. And then he saw the runway, a charcoal slash through the white, snow-covered land. On the south side of the mountain. It was the old Crested Butte Airport. Mason had heard Papa Eli and his father talking about the planes that had come and gone from here, wondering where they’d been flying to.
Wyoming. Lawten was trying to leave with Ciddah and Elyot.
Rebels Page 34